(Flavor was decent, the pool of orange oil on my plate is not, though. Glad I got salad fixings for supper.)
I wasn't kidding. |
Meanwhile, I have a load of laundry going, I need to clean up the mess the dog made in the garage, clean up the mess I made in the kitchen, clean the litter box, and have head to town to finish two projects for the museum I volunteer at before four.
Oh, and I have a novel to finish, a facebook page to update, and a blog post to write. All of which will probably be put off until tomorrow (except the blog post, obviously, since I'm writing it now).
Writing is my passion. It is something that I hope to someday use to make a living, yet it seems like it is always being pushed aside for things that are "more important." It's entirely my fault, but I can't help but wonder, amid dripping burritos and necessary cleaning, why do I do that?
Hell, I should be putting off cleaning and laundry and cleaning the litter box so I can write, right? A normal person would, I supposed.
Meh, normal is overrated.
I guess this all comes from growing up, being an adult, or just knowing that there are some things that you hate doing but do because they need to be done.
Thankfully, writing is one of those wonderful hobbies/future occupations that can literally be done anywhere.
You have a 30 minute commute by train every morning? Take a notebook and write about the little gnome who lives under the third seat and steals shoelaces. Your kids will love it.
You have a boring desk job? Pull up a word document and type a few lines every hour to give your mind a break. If your boss asks, it's a focus-sharpening exercise the guru told you about it at the last company-team building seminar.
You need to clean the house? Voice memo your thoughts on your phone and write them down later. This doesn't work too well if you're vacuuming, but we work with what we have.
Someday, I'll take my own advice, but for now, I have some poop to scoop.